


Saving Grace

by Sue Corkill (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/Sue%20Corkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam only wants to help Jack recover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving Grace

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even remember now why I wanted to write another post-Abyss story, but here it is. Thanks (as always) to Linz and Wendy. Enjoy!
> 
> Originally posted October 2003.

SAVING GRACE

 

He was warm, he didn't hurt and one part of him knew he was safe, that he wasn't going to die again—at least not anytime soon. The familiar sounds of the infirmary at night played softly around him. The soft sound of feet walking gently across the concrete floor, the sibilant swish of the nurses' uniforms as they moved about performing their various tasks, trying to be quiet and not disturb him. His team had come and gone, he'd had one last 'encounter' with Daniel. If that's what you could call his interactions with the man. He still couldn't decide if his visions of Daniel had been real or just some warped figment of his imagination. Funny, he wouldn't have figured that he'd imagine Daniel when faced with some life and death situation, it had always been someone else, at least in his imagination. Someone who had brought him a glass of water.... So maybe Daniel had actually appeared to him. 

 

Shifting onto his side, Jack closed his eyes and tried to block out the sights, sounds and smells of the infirmary. Even though the blessed familiarity of the environment was a relief after his experiences with Ba'al, it still seemed too harsh. He wasn't sure what he needed, but it wasn't this. He needed...god, he needed Sam. Jack took several deep breaths, trying to quell the panic that threatened to develop. He needed Sam and he tiredly cursed the need that bound him to her. The acknowledgement his dependence-and her obvious power over him-was a pain as deep and cutting as any of the fatal wounds he'd received from Ba'al. Being killed and revived numerous times had brought emotions and feelings he normally kept deeply buried right to the surface. The burning pain in his gut was an ever-present reminder of what had driven Kanan to return for Shallan. The longing, desire, fear and yes—love—were continual reminders of his own unrequited feelings for his major. Maybe unrequited wasn't quite the right word, but it would suffice. What else would you call two plus years of yearning and wanting and loving that resulted in nothing? 

 

At one time he'd thought maybe his feelings for her weren't unrequited, but right now he wasn't so sure. She didn't seem anymore or less happy than Teal'c or Jonas to see him, or any of the other staff who had ventured near his bed. Hammond had actually shown more emotion than she had. She hadn't even been there when he'd woken up at the Tok'ra base. She'd been quick enough to be at his side when they'd needed him to take the snake. And to think he'd done it—sacrificed everything for her. He snorted, he was a fool. A fool for thinking that her plea for him to accept the Tok'ra plan to save his life was something she wanted for herself and not something Major Carter wanted for the good of the goddamn universe. He was as much a fool as Kanan had been when he'd gone back for Shallan. Thinking that he could redeem himself by returning for his lover. Thinking he could prove his love by doing something abhorrent...all because she'd asked. All because he couldn't bear the thought of letting her down.

 

Jack heard the distinctive tip tap of Fraiser's high heels coming towards his bed and closed his eyes. He really didn't want to talk to her, to talk to anyone. But he couldn't disguise the fine tremor in his muscles anymore, the spasms that threatened to wrack his entire body. God, he'd hoped it wouldn't happen, but one part of him knew it was inevitable. He'd seen it happen with Daniel and now he was next. 

 

"Colonel?"

 

Her voice was soft, full of concern and caring, a voice he hadn't really expected to ever hear again. Jack squeezed his eyes shut tighter and took a deep breath. "Yeah," he finally muttered between gritted teeth.

 

Her hand was cool on his hot forehead. He didn't open his eyes; an especially strong tremor running through him before he relaxed under her touch. "I'm going to have Jenkins give you something to help you relax."

 

He rolled over then and opened his eyes. The doctor's hand ran carefully down his cheek to his throat, her fingers pressing gently. "I am relaxed." 

 

She merely raised an eyebrow at his blatant lie and her hand left his pulse point and squeezed his shoulder. "I know you're worried about withdrawal from the sarcophagus." He didn't say anything, just gave a quick nod of his head in acknowledgement. "The Tok'ra doctor doesn't think you'll have a full-blown withdrawal, since you weren't using the sarcophagus for," she paused then, apparently searching for the correct terminology, a frown crossing her already serious face.

 

"Since I was dead," he supplied for her.

 

A flash of pain crossed her face, but she recovered quickly. "Since you weren't using it for recreational purposes."

 

He managed to muster a small smile for her, it wasn't Fraiser's fault Ba'al had captured him. Since he knew it was what Jack O'Neill would normally say, he asked, "When can I get out of here, Doc?"

 

A look of relief filled her face and Jack knew he'd found the correct approach—at least with the Doc. She might not totally believe him, but she wanted to believe him, which would work in his favor. She smiled and fussed momentarily with the bed clothing, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. "Let's see how you are in the morning before making that decision."

 

He nodded, not surprised by her answer. And Jenkins saved him from having to make more small talk by her arrival at his bedside, pill cup and glass of water in hand. Raising himself up on one elbow, Jack obediently took the pill, swallowing it down with a gulp of water. Both women smiled at him and Jack lay back down, content for the moment to let them enjoy his compliance. Because it didn't really matter...nothing really mattered except for her. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"O'Neill."

 

Jack stood and continued pulling his trousers on. Teal'c stood at the edge of the curtains surrounding his hospital bed.

 

"Doctor Fraiser is releasing you?"

 

Grabbing his belt from where it lay on the bed, he slipped it through the loops. "Yeah, just got my walking papers." Jack fastened the belt and looked at Teal'c, ignoring the concern apparent in the Jaffa's eyes. "I'm fine, Teal'c. Just a little rundown from that crap the Tok'ra call food. Not enough iron, I guess." Jack picked up his wallet and keys off the bedside stand and slipped them into his pockets. "No reason to keep me here any longer." He looked Teal'c in the eye then, willing him to let it go. No one but Fraiser and Hammond knew what had transpired at Ba'al's hands. And while he expected Teal'c could make a fairly accurate guess as to some of the torture meted out by Ba'al, he wasn't about to fill him in on all the details. Now he had something more important to do.

 

Teal'c inclined his head. "As you say."

 

Jack knew Teal'c hadn't believed a word he'd said. But it didn't matter, because Fraiser was the one who held the keys to this particular prison and he'd just been released. 

 

"Shall I accompany you?"

 

Jack slipped his leather jacket on. "No offense, Teal'c. But I just want to go home."

 

Again with the head nod, but he stood aside when Jack walked past him. Pausing at the door to the corridor, he looked back. "Have you seen Carter today?" Jack tried to keep his voice casual and Teal'c remained impassive.

 

"I have not, O'Neill. According to General Hammond she has taken some personal time."

 

"Right, personal time." With an off hand salute to Teal'c, Jack left the infirmary, free for the first time in a very long time.

 

He made quick work of leaving the mountain, though he was very careful to cheerfully acknowledge all those he met who expressed pleasure at his return. Slipping quietly through the last checkpoint, he was finally on the surface. Late autumn had been replaced with early winter while he'd been 'away', the peaks of the distant mountains already topped with a cap of snow. He took a deep breath; the fresh scent of the pine trees mingled with the inevitable exhaust fumes was unexpectedly comforting. Jack closed his eyes for just a moment and simply absorbed all the sounds and sensations. The chill breeze blowing over him, the rustle of the wind through the pines, the distant roar of the highway. But none of it mattered.

 

"Sir?"

 

Jack opened his eyes. The young airman in front of him looked vaguely familiar and mildly anxious. "Airman?"

 

"If you're looking for your vehicle, sir, it was moved to Lot A, sir."

 

He hadn't been looking for it—yet, so was glad for the information. Leave it to Hammond, or Carter, to have it moved to the more protected parking. He wondered if it would start. As if reading his thoughts, the airman added, "General Hammond had me check it out yesterday, sir. Everything should be in running order."

 

"Thanks," Jack quickly glanced at the boy's nametag, "Thompkins."

 

"You're welcome, sir." Thompkins grinned at him, "Glad to be of help."

 

Jack nodded, slipped his sunglasses on and strode off towards Lot A.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The further away Jack got from the mountain, the better he felt. The familiar scenery whizzed by as he drove his truck towards home. Only it wasn't the exit to his subdivision that he took when he ignored his usual turn off and headed towards her house. Before he could rest, they were some things he needed to know. He was annoyed as hell that she hadn't come to him in the infirmary, even though he reluctantly acknowledged that the conversation he was contemplating was best kept out of the mountain. 

 

The few miles passed quickly and then he was pulling up in front of her house, right behind her car. Shutting the ignition off, he sat for a moment looking at her house. The grass was brown, the bushes sparse with their winter color. She was in there waiting for him, whether she realized it or not, because she would know that he would come to her. How could she not? After everything that had happened, after what she had asked him to do...and the sacrifices he had made? He quickly squelched the image of her worried blue eyes and her soft voice pleading with him to accept the Tok'ra's offer for a cure. She had used his love for her against his most basic of instincts and he had surrendered to her. Proved his love for her by doing the one thing she knew he found abhorrent above all others. Finally jumping out of the truck, Jack slammed the door and strode across the brittle grass. It was payback time. 

 

Vaulting up the steps, Jack rapped sharply on her door, ignoring the bell. Waiting only a few moments, he knocked again, this time harder. His sensitive ears immediately picked up the sound of footsteps and he waited impatiently for the door to open. And then she was standing before him, blue eyes huge in her pale face, looking unexpectedly fragile in black jeans and some kind of gauzy, black top. 

 

"Colonel." She didn't say anything else, just stood back from the doorway. He took that as an invitation to enter, waiting silently in the hallway as she shut the door behind them. She brushed past him then, the fleeting brush of her arm against his and the light scent of her cologne setting all his senses on alert. She headed down the short hallway and he followed, his eyes riveted to the subtle sway of her hips as she walked. God, he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath. He smiled slightly, the irony of which was not lost on him.

 

Once in her living room, Sam sat down on the edge of the sofa, poised for flight he reckoned. But she wouldn't escape him. Taking his time, Jack shrugged out of his jacket, draping it casually over the over-stuffed chair by the fireplace. She had a fire going, the late afternoon just chilly enough that the warmth was welcome. Weak sunlight filtered in through the windows, the gathering clouds dimming what little sun was left in the day. 

 

"Why?"

 

She looked up at him then, confusion flashed briefly across her face before comprehension settled in. "It was the only way." Her calm voice and manner only served to further infuriate him.

 

"You knew I wouldn't refuse you!" He didn't try to hide the anger and accusation in his voice.

 

She shook her head. "I didn't know, I hoped."

 

"Just like you hoped the Tok'ra could be trusted?"

 

Her eyes flashed with anger that disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. "No one could have anticipated Kanan's actions."

 

"Yet you did."

 

"No." She paused, her eyes never leaving his face. "I anticipated your actions."

 

He slowly advanced across the room towards her, never taking his eyes from hers. "Did you now?" 

 

"I knew you'd never leave anybody behind. It was simple logic that your beliefs influenced Kanan's behavior."

 

"Yeah, must've come as quite a shock to the old boy." Jack knew his smile was more of a sneer. "But then, he bailed before it got really interesting."

 

"Sir?" That innocent and confused look again; and here he thought he was the only one who had that look perfected.

 

He had reached the sofa and he sat down, crowding her slightly. But, and he had to give her credit, she didn't back away, the only indication of nervousness the hands clenched tightly in her lap. She sat still and alert, even when he reached out and brushed his fingers through her hair, smoothing it back over her ear. "Yeah, old Kanan made a quick exit when he realized he was about to be captured by Ba'al's Jaffa. Left me lying face down in the mud."

 

Her eyes closed and she took a shuddering breath. He didn't know whether it was his words or his presence that affected her and he really didn't care. Jack let his hand slide around to her nape, gently holding her in place. He leaned in closer; his breath washing over her now flushed cheeks. She started to tremble and he tightened his grip on her nape, sliding his mouth along her cheek until he could whisper in her ear. "Left me to be tortured for something I couldn't even remember."

 

She gasped and tried to pull away, but he held her firmly. She struggled for a brief moment, but he held her securely and when she relaxed, his touch changed from brusque to caressing. "No..." she moaned softly, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. She began to tremble and he felt the warmth of her tears against his neck. 

 

"Knives," he whispered, threading his fingers through her short hair and pulling her head back. Wet blue eyes full of pain gazed up at him. "Acid," he murmured, ignoring her anguish. Lowering his mouth to the vulnerable expanse of her throat, he nipped lightly at her soft skin before trailing his mouth back up to her ear. "And then I died."

 

She sobbed, a broken, ragged sound and Jack quickly lowered her to the cushions. He followed, settling his torso on hers and cupping her tear-stained face between his hands. Her eyes were bright with tears and her lower lip quivered and then she said his name..."Jack." Pain, longing, desire and surrender all mingled in that one word. Triumphant desire poured through him with her capitulation and Jack immediately dropped his head to hers, taking her mouth in a demanding kiss. 

 

Oh god, she tasted so good; her breasts pressed softly into his chest, her hands clutched restlessly at his shoulders, her lips soft and pliant beneath his. He groaned, shifting both of them further onto the sofa, settling himself firmly between her legs. Breaking the kiss, he propped himself up on one elbow over her. Her eyes opened then, her pupils so dilated that they were almost black. She reached up with a trembling hand and caressed his cheek. He could have her now, she would be his. And, he thought almost grimly, maybe with the taking his never-ending hunger for her would be sated and he would finally be free. But...it wasn't quite enough. He needed her to be as desperate for him as he was for her. He wanted her begging him, pleading with him to take her, willing to sacrifice it all for him—like he had for her. 

 

"What do you want?" he growled.

 

He would have sworn it was impossible, but her eyes suddenly got even darker. "You," she whispered, her hands clutching at his shoulders, trying to pull him back down to her. 

 

Easily evading her efforts, Jack rolled off her and sat up. Grabbing one of her hands, he pulled her into a sitting position as well. Tugging her close, he kissed her hard and then released her. "Show me," he commanded.

 

She looked dazed, but he could see her processing his demand and the moment the meaning became clear. He wasn't sure how he expected her to react, maybe with angry words and bitter accusations or perhaps tears accompanied by pitiful excuses and explanations. What he didn't expect were for her eyes to become all misty and full of understanding or for her lips to curve into a sympathetic smile that somehow conveyed acceptance with no signs of pity.

 

Her breath came out on a soft sigh and he held himself rigid when she shifted closer, one slim hand resting tentatively on his knee. She pressed an almost chaste kiss against his cheek and he braced himself for her refusal. Her breath was a warm caress against his lips, her voice low and husky, when she finally murmured, "Whatever you want." He moaned and closed his eyes, unable to look at her. The tenderness he saw in them undermining his determination to make her pay. 

 

And then he couldn't think at all when her strong, capable hands suddenly pushed him back onto the sofa and began tugging at his shirt. She straddled his thighs, her nimble fingers undoing buttons and spreading his shirt wide. Jack groaned, his hips arching, when her nails raked gently down his chest. She leaned down and he groaned again at the gauzy feel of her blouse and her soft breasts pressing against his chest. Her teeth nipped sharply at his ear and she whispered, "Anything, Jack, I'll do anything for you. If you tell me what you wish," one hand boldly caressed his growing erection, "I'll finish this." 

 

It took a moment for her words to sink into his pleasure-clouded brain, the insistent touch of her hand on his crotch crowding out everything else. But then he heard it and the words resonated inside him, sparking the dim memory of another, dreaded voice that he knew would haunt him for years to come. "If you tell me what I wish to know, I will end this." Jack hadn't been able to tell Ba'al what he'd wanted to know, anymore than he could tell Sam what he really wanted from her. Just some confirmation that her feelings matched his, that her need for him was as deep and all consuming as the hunger that filled him. Which was, paradoxically, the one thing he couldn't demand of her, it had to be given freely or not at all.

 

Groaning harshly, Jack pushed Sam away from him. Her soft cry as she tumbled back onto the cushions tore at his ravaged heart, but as much as he wanted Sam, he didn't want her like this. Revenge and guilt were poor substitutes for love and forgiveness. And he didn't want Sam to come to him out of guilt. His eyes darkened and he swore harshly, sitting up on the edge of the sofa. "God damn it all to hell," he muttered tiredly, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands.

 

"Jack?" Her voice and touch on his shoulder were both tentative. He shrugged her hand off and stood. Ignoring her, he gathered up his jacket and pulled it on, his movements jerky. She sat up then, and this time he knew the pain, confusion and tears in her eyes were real. "Jack," she whispered again, her voice trembling, "what's wrong?"

 

"Nothing," he growled at her. Unable to explain further—or to even meet her eyes—he left the woman he loved crying on the sofa and walked out the front door.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jack sat in his living room, the only light that of the flames that flickered brightly behind the glass fireplace screen. He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. And he didn't want to take any of the pills Fraiser had prescribed to 'help' him. He'd had enough oblivion for one lifetime, which was also one of the reasons why he hadn't sought forgetfulness in alcohol. No, right now he wanted to feel every bit of pain and guilt he could dredge up, because at least then he knew he was alive. 

 

The scene in Sam's living room kept looping through his brain. He was appalled at the arrogance that had driven him to confront her the way he had, that had wanted to betray her the way he had felt betrayed. God, he was one fucked up mess when it came to the one woman who meant everything to him. He laughed mirthlessly; maybe he and Kanan did have something in common after all, the ability to totally screw up their relationships with the women they loved. His memories of Kanan were still vague, at best. And given what had occurred, he wasn't sure he wanted to delve deeper into any latent memories. It seemed he was more than capable of messing up his life without any help from Kanan.

 

He'd tried watching television, but it held no appeal for him. He hadn't been hungry, but forced himself to eat one of the frozen dinners he kept for such occasions. After leaving Sam, he hadn't had the energy to go shopping. Not surprising though, there was fresh milk, juice, bread and some bananas in his kitchen. No doubt from Sam....

 

And he was once more back to Sam. His biggest fear was that he'd truly ruined any chance they had of making something work between them. He wanted to blame her, but knew he couldn't. He'd had a choice—which was a hell of a lot more than most dying people got. He could have said no. But...he hadn't wanted it to end like that. No, not the dying from some alien infection part, but the not having acted on his feelings for Sam part. He'd wanted to see her again, and not through the visor of a hazmat suit, feel her hand on his arm and not some glove. Tell her that he loved her without any on-lookers watching their every move, recording their every word. 

 

Right, he snorted. So what was the first thing he did, when he finally saw her again? Asked for a glass of water. And when he was touching her, talking to her? He mocked her and her feelings by demanding proof of her affection. Jack let his head fall back on the sofa cushion. Yep, he'd certainly shown her how much he cared for her. Lifting his head, he wearily rubbed his face. Maybe he would have that drink after all. 

 

Jack stood just as the muted roar of a motorcycle broke the quiet of the night on his street. But instead of passing on by, the light from the headlight flashed briefly through the front windows before it, and the engine, stopped in front of his house. The motion sensitive exterior lights winked on, but Jack didn't have to look outside to know who was there. Only one person with a motorcycle would come to his house after midnight. And while part of him was surprised by her arrival, he also wondered what had taken her so long. 

 

Even though he knew she was out there, he moved into the shadows and waited for her knock. He heard heavy, booted footsteps on the deck that stopped and he waited. He wasn't sure if it took her inordinately long to knock or whether he was so tense that it seemed forever...but finally, a firm rap on the door. He realized the sound hadn't been angry or timid. She knocked again—a little harder—jolting him out of his reverie. 

 

He moved surely through the dimly lit room and undoing the locks, pulled the door open. The porch light shown down highlighting her hair, which looked slightly mussed. No doubt due to the helmet she held in her gloved hand. She wore black leather pants and jacket, the bright orange of some kind of turtleneck visible at her throat. Her eyes were shadowed and then she moved back a step and he almost gasped out loud, only years of practice at hiding his reactions stifled the outburst. Her cheeks were flushed and her nose pink, probably from the night air. But it was her eyes that had him stunned. He knew she'd cried, he could still hear her sobs as he'd walked out on her and he could see the telltale puffiness and redness left in her eyes. That didn't surprise him. What surprised him was the utter desolation and despair present in their shadowed depths that turned her normally beautiful blue eyes into dark pools of loss and pain.

 

"How dare you!"

 

"Sam--" Stunned a bit by her outburst, he looked at her in confusion.

 

"How dare you walk out on me like that?"

 

"Sam...I thought it was the best thing to do."

 

"This isn't just about you," she spat at him. "This is about us."

 

His eyes narrowed. "There isn't an 'us'."

 

"Like hell there isn't!" She stepped forward, crowding him. He backed further into the house and she followed. "There's been an 'us' since the day I walked into the briefing room and you challenged me to arm wrestling. It's always been about us, even when we pretend it isn't."

 

She was right; he couldn't deny it, so he took the offensive. "Why is this time any different?"

 

"Because I don't want to pretend anymore. This time wasn't just bad...it was the worst. You were lost to us—to me. And then you tell me he killed you." 

 

She choked back a sob and Jack couldn't take it anymore. He pulled her into his arms and kicked the door shut. Her helmet hit the floor with a loud thud; her still gloved hands clutched at him. "Let me heal you," she murmured, her voice shaky and full of tears. "Let me do this for you." She pulled back slightly and he loosened his arms enough so that he could see her face. "And I won't ask for anything from you ever again."

 

"God, Sam," he groaned, completely destroyed by her words. Moved by pure instinct and desire, Jack lowered his head to hers and drank from the sweetness that was her mouth. Her lips were soft and cool, her scent a heady mix of leather and gardenia with just a hint of the crisp night air. The leather of her jacket was smooth and supple under his hands, a prelude to the even greater pleasures that awaited him beneath the black leather. Keeping his lips fused to hers, Jack started shuffling backwards. She obediently followed him, her hands at his waist, allowing him to guide her while they continued to kiss. Thank goodness his hallway was short and obstacle free, but it still seemed an eternity before they were in his bedroom. 

 

Once there, he dragged his lips away from hers, ignoring her small whimper of protest and quickly switching on the bedside lamp. The muted light filled the room with a soft amber glow; he blinked, his eyes taking several moments to adjust to the dim light. When he could focus, he saw that she had already tugged one of her gloves off. She tossed it onto his dresser, its mate quickly joining it. Before he could protest, or even help her, she had her jacket off and tossed carelessly onto the only chair in the room. She had her sweater up over her head and off next, thrown on top of her jacket. 

 

Her hands went to the waistband of her pants next, but Jack's hands met hers there, his fingers closing implacably around her slender wrists. She tensed for the briefest moments and her eyes flew up to his. He didn't want to make any more demands of her or force her into...anything. But he needed to recapture some of the dignity that came with controlling what did and didn't happen to him, something that he only just realized had been taken from him the minute he'd agreed to the Tok'ra plan. 

 

"Let me," he told her. And even though he tried to keep his voice firm and strong it still came out sounding like a plea.

 

He felt Sam relax, her arms dropped to her side and she smiled again. Only this time it was a slow, languid smile, full of promise and understanding. "Whatever you wish, love." His heart did a quick flip-flop. And he smiled in return, because this time he knew she said it because it was what she wanted too, not because he had demanded it of her. 

 

He didn't release her wrists, instead he lightly ran his hands up her arms, delighting in the subtle shiver that ran through her with the teasing caress. Once he reached her shoulders, he dropped one hand to her waist, sliding warmly around to the small of back. With the other, he tugged lightly on the sturdy strap of her rather serviceable sports bra, pulling her the few steps it took for their bodies to touch. Her head came to rest on his shoulder and he lazily stroked his hand along the fabric of the bra, her breathing becoming more labored with each passing minute. Tracing his fingers along the back edge of the bra and finding no clasp, he finally had to ask, "Sam, how does this thing come off?"

 

She chuckled quietly and turned her face into his throat, pressing a quick kiss there. "Over my head," she answered, lifting her head and stepping back slightly. Her eyes were sparkling with amusement and she lifted her arms up and away from him, the movement displaying for him the long line of her neck and the tempting swell of her breasts beneath the white cotton of her bra. Jack wasn't sure if he'd ever seen anything more erotic, her already tight nipples poking at the fabric; the plain material covering them more arousing than any lacy bra could ever be. 

 

Lightly running his hands along her ribcage, Jack cupped her breasts, kneading gently through the soft fabric. She moaned and stretched a bit more, pressing her breasts more fully into his caressing hands. Sliding his fingers under the band, he finally pulled the garment off, taking his time in order to touch as much of her skin as he could. Her hands fluttered down, coming to rest lightly at his waist while he tossed the bra aside.

 

Her breasts shown pale in the muted light, her nipples a delicate pink that just begged for his touch, his mouth. Wrapping a strong arm around her, he pulled her close and bent her torso back, nuzzling her breasts before fastening his mouth on the closest one. Pulling the taut peak deep into his mouth, Jack suckled strongly, teasing it with his tongue and teeth. He was vaguely aware of Sam's soft gasps of pleasure, her hands clutching at his T-shirt. As Jack continued to torment and tease, he realized he was supporting more and more of her weight. Deciding he'd better act before they both ended up on the floor, he pivoted, bringing her with him and lowering her to the bed.

 

Resting one knee on the bed, Jack pulled first one boot and sock off of Sam and then the other, tossing them onto the floor. Sam scooted further back onto the bed then, lying back against the pillows, her arms resting casually over her head, her smile soft and inviting. Jack ran his hands up Sam's leather clad legs to her waist, suddenly eager to have her naked before him. Normally deft fingers fumbled clumsily with the button and zip, the erotic contrast of the cool leather and warm flesh under his hands kicking his arousal up even higher. In one long caress, Jack pulled the snug pants down her slender legs, a faint smile lighting his face at the plain white cotton panties that came down with them. 

 

He stopped then, his breath leaving him as he looked down at Sam, sprawled on his bed. The emotions running through him were almost overwhelming. She was finally in his bed, waiting for him, wanting only him. "Jack." She called to him, her voice low and vibrating with desire. For the first time in a very long time, Jack felt fully alive, felt his blood rushing through his veins, his heart pounding with something other than fear, every sense totally focused on the woman before him. 

 

Standing, he kept his gaze on her, watching her tensely while he pulled his T-shirt off. He was painfully aware that his illness and subsequent captivity had left its mark on his body, though the sarcophagus had taken care of any visible wounds. He was pale; he'd lost weight and muscle mass which only time and resumption of his workout routine would replace. But there wasn't any disappointment in her face when he stood proudly before her, only warmth and something that looked suspiciously like love. She raised up on one elbow and didn't say anything, merely held out her hand to him. Reaching for her with one hand and tugging on the drawstring of his sweat pants with the other, Jack let his sweats slip down off his hips and pool at his feet. Stepping out of them, he let Sam pull him down to the bed.

 

Gathering her into his arms, Jack gently nudged her knees apart with one of his, carefully settling his weight on her. She sighed and shifted with him, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around him, cradling him in the sanctuary of her embrace. Framing her face between his large hands he gazed down at her, his eyes full of wonder. "You don't have to do this, you know."

 

Her lips curved into a tender smile and she ever so slightly rotated her pelvis. "I want to do this."

 

Jack couldn't stop the low groan her subtle movement forced out of him or the instinctive movement of his hips against hers. Forcing his focus back on Sam's face, he persisted. "I don't want you to have any regrets."

 

"I won't have any regrets—ever."

 

He'd never known Sam to say anything she didn't mean and so he finally decided to believe her now. Believe—and accept—that she loved him. He wanted to say more, to tell her that he loved her, but he couldn't get the words past the lump in his throat. So he didn't even try, lowering his head to hers and capturing her lips in a searing kiss. He was much better with action anyway. He tugged at her lower lip with his teeth and she whimpered, her mouth opening immediately. 

 

Groaning in satisfaction, Jack deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, stroking and teasing. Fierce arousal roared through him, the sweet taste of her mouth, the gentle touch of her hands as they caressed his shoulders and back, the extraordinary feel of her breasts pressed against his chest when she moved against him. And oh god, the incredible sensations of his erection pressed into her slick flesh, all urging him to complete their union. Releasing her lips, Jack feathered his right hand in a sure caress down her belly, stroking his fingers tentatively through her damp folds, assessing her readiness. She was soft and wet, her hips moving rhythmically against his caressing hand. 

 

"Yes, Jack," she moaned. 

 

And it was all he needed. "Sam." His voice was rough with desire and she opened her eyes. "Look at me," he commanded...begged...pleaded. He wasn't sure and he didn't care; the overpowering need he felt for this woman stripped away his pride and he still didn't care. Because when he looked into her eyes, he saw the same desperate need and urgency that drove him to reveal his very soul to her. 

 

"I love you," she murmured and with her words, the last of his uncertainty faded. Probing first with his fingers and then with the broad head of his shaft, Jack slowly broached Sam's tender opening. Savoring each exquisite sensation, Jack slowly easier his way further into her snug channel. God, she was so tight and hot and finally his. She whimpered softly with each panting breath she took and Jack wondered if he was hurting her, when she sighed his name and he felt her relax beneath him. It was all the reassurance he needed, groaning as he thrust deep, seating himself fully in her silky depths. 

 

"Wrap your legs around me," he commanded hoarsely. She complied and he groaned when the movement forced him even deeper. Wrapping his arms around her, Jack buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder. He started moving, setting a slow and deliberate pace, determined to prolong the pleasure for as long as he could. Being with Sam was at once easier and yet more terrifying than he could ever have imagined. None of the uncertainty or trepidation of a first time was present. And while each movement and touch was new and exhilarating, there was also a degree of familiarity that soothed his soul. They were meant to be together and this was merely the confirmation. Everything else faded into insignificance; his captivity, his return and all the implications that surrounded their current actions. His only reality that of his lover, who held him securely in her warm and welcoming body. 

 

Sam moaned, her legs tightening around him, her nails digging into his back and her body straining against his. "Jack, help me please." And while her voice was pleading, he had no trouble in detecting the confidence she had that he would help her and please her. 

 

"Yes, baby," he growled. "I'll help you." Jack shifted, raising his head and sliding his hand to where they were joined. He watched her face, gauging her reaction to his touch as he found and caressed her tender bud. It had been a long time since he'd been responsible for putting that particular look on any woman's face, but he recognized it immediately. She gasped his name, their eyes meeting; hers filled with a look of surprised pleasure and his, he knew, were full of pleased arrogance. Even when her eyes fluttered shut, Jack continued to watch her, enthralled by the look of mounting pleasure on her face. Jack slowly increased the intensity of his caressing fingers and the strength of his thrusts, Sam's body now straining against his as she sought the release her body craved. It wouldn't be long....

 

She cried out sharply, her whole body shuddering against his when her climax claimed her. The tremors wracking her body seemed to go on endlessly while he thrust deep, continuing to stroke and caress her. When she finally lay limp and sobbing beneath him, Jack wrapped both arms around her and rested his full weight on her, crooning low in her ear and bringing her safely back.

 

When his name was a soft sigh against his cheek and her hands were no longer clutching but smoothing tenderly through his hair, he started moving again. She was once more soft and pliant beneath him, her body moved easily with his as he thrust heavily into her. Far too soon he felt the first faint tendrils of his orgasm curling low in his belly. He tried to slow down, one part of him unwilling to release the tight control he still held on his body. But Sam wouldn't allow it, her sleek muscles tugged and pulled insistently at his engorged length, luring him to completion. With a harsh groan, Jack surrendered to his need, held safe in his lover's arms.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sam woke slowly, the disorientation of not waking in her own bed less alarming than the fact that Jack wasn't in the bed. She had vague memories of falling asleep curled around him, as if she somehow needed to protect him—even now. From what, she still wasn't sure, but after his earlier confession at her house she was determined to find out what exactly happened to him at Ba'al's hands. Which was really the whole reason she'd come to his house. She wanted, no...she needed to help him. If she was to make peace with herself at all, she needed to make peace with Jack. And while she figured the sex might help temporarily toward helping him--and possibly her—there was still too much between them that needed to be addressed before they could progress in their relationship. Which brought her back to her current situation, which was alone in his big bed. Rolling onto her back, Sam opened her eyes. The room was dim but she could see the figure of her lover standing by the window. 

 

She reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. "Jack." 

 

He turned, his expression what could only be described as guarded. She felt her heart start to sink, but she decided firmly she wouldn't let that deter her. She was no psychologist, but even she knew the only way he could begin to heal was to name his demons and confront what Ba'al had done to him. And if at the end of that he could forgive her, then maybe she could forgive herself.

 

She lifted up the covers in a wordless invitation and, thank god, he crossed the few steps to the bed and slid under the covers with her. As if they had done this a hundred times before, he pulled her into his arms and she rested her head on his chest. He didn't say anything, simply shut out the lamp, allowing the first faint light of dawn to creep softly into the room. The reassurance of his fingers stroking casually through her hair gave her the courage to start talking.

 

"Tell me what happened."

 

He didn't answer right away, but he also didn't pretend not to know what she meant. 

 

"I was captured by Ba'al," he finally murmured.

 

"After Kanan used you to go back for Shallan?"

 

"Yeah." His voice once again a low murmur above her head.

 

"What did Ba'al want?"

 

He sighed, his chest moving up and down under her head and she felt her heart start to break. She knew he'd been captured and a prisoner before, they all had. But she also knew it didn't make it any easier. 

 

"Oh, the usual...the identity of my snake, what my mission was...."

 

Encouraged by the fact that at least he was answering her questions, she asked the hard one next. "What did he do?" 

 

She felt his entire body tense against her and he stopped breathing momentarily. "I told you," he countered evasively.

 

"Not really," she gently prompted.

 

His chest rose and fell several times beneath her head before he answered. "Yu attacked before Ba'al could break me. It was close though, really close. Daniel was there, you know."

 

"He was?" She tried to keep the skepticism out of her voice. Given everything that had happened to them, anything was possible, even Daniel appearing to Jack. Hadn't Oma Desala appeared to Daniel?

 

"Well, as much as an insubstantial being can be there. But he couldn't help me. Wanted me to ascend." He snorted then. "Like I would want to do that."

 

"But what about Ba'al?"

 

He rolled onto his side, shifting her to her back. He loomed over her, tightening a hand in her hair to the point of discomfort, his eyes hard and frighteningly dark. "You want the gory details, Sam? Why?"

 

"I need to know," she finally managed to whisper, trying futilely to keep the tears out of her voice. He nodded, the hand in her hair loosening and she tried to relax. His sudden shifts in his mood really not any more alarming than anything else that had occurred between them. 

 

He spoke then, his voice matter of fact. "It seems that Ba'al's favorite form of torture is to kill his victims—repeatedly. And then reviving them in his sarcophagus, of course."

 

Her heart broke completely, the tears finally breaking through and filling her eyes. Before she could say anything, he continued. "Of course, since I had no idea why Kanan had returned, there wasn't much I could tell Ba'al. Kind of pissed him off. So, he just kept asking the same questions—over and over." His casual comments should have comforted her, but they didn't.

 

She wanted to tell him to stop, but now that he'd started, it seemed he couldn't stop. "Knives seemed to be his favorite. You know, I'm not sure he's actually any good at throwing one. He used his gravity generator. Had me sucked up against this grate like a fly on flypaper. The knives just sorta' automatically found their way into me. But now that I think about it, he must've had some skill because he never actually delivered the lethal blow until he was good and ready."

 

If the increasingly detached way in which he described his torture was meant to reassure her, it wasn't working. But at least he was talking, his words eating away at her, probably much like Ba'al's acid had on him. "But you know, I'd have to say the acid was the worst. He'd use it and then he'd sometimes use this antidote stuff. Doing his own sick one-man version of 'good cop, bad cop'."

 

"And then?" her voice was hoarse and she felt sick, sure that she already knew the answer.

 

"And then he'd kill me again."

 

Through her tears she could see his eyes weren't hard any longer, but filled with an unbearable sadness that had to be more profound and deeper than the self-pity in which she currently indulged. If she really wanted to help him...to heal him...it was now or never. Her hand trembled when she reached up to caress his cheek. The stubble from his day's growth of beard rasped against her fingers when she stroked his face. 

 

"All I ever wanted was for you to live," she whispered. 

 

"I know," he murmured. 

 

She cupped his cheek and anxiously searched his eyes for understanding because she wasn't sure she could ever ask for his forgiveness. "I'm so, so sorry that Kanan used you for his own personal agenda, that Ba'al did those things to you, that you...." Her voice broke, she wasn't sure she could even put words to what he must have gone through and the only thing she could think to say sounded so inadequate, "...suffered so much at his hands. But I won't ever be sorry that you're alive." 

 

It might have been the way the morning light caressed his face or else it was her desperate yearning for his acceptance that had her imagining that she saw a softening in his expression. Regardless, it gave her the courage to continue. She took a deep breath, forcing the next words out. "Or that I asked you to take the symbiote." 

 

"It doesn't matter." 

 

She shook her head urgently, placing two fingers gently over his lips. "No—"

 

"Yes," he mumbled against her fingers, kissing them briefly before he continued. "Because I wasn't really alive before." She let her fingers fall away then, totally undone by his words. "I wasn't alive until a few hours ago, when you let me into your arms, your body...when you told me that you love me."

 

Her latent tears spilled over, his admission more than she had hoped for and with it, her courage returned. Blinking tears away, she once more reached up and caressed his beloved face with trembling fingers. The last vestiges of darkness left his eyes and she slid her hand in a leisurely caress to his nape, urging him closer. Raising her head, Sam watched his eyes drift shut before she brushed his lips with hers. His lips automatically sought hers, but she smiled slightly, evading his lips and placing whisper soft kisses along his jaw. When she reached his ear, she nipped delicately at his lobe and whispered, "Let me give you life." 

 

He moaned softly, his large body trembling against hers. Her lips curved into a knowing smile, for everything feminine within her recognized his moan as one of passion, not one of anguish. Sliding her hand down to his shoulder, she pushed firmly, urging him onto his back. A look of confusion flickered briefly over his face, but then he smiled down at her and she almost moaned herself at the look of lazy passion in his eyes. Forcing herself to remember what she wanted to do, Sam pressed a little harder against his shoulder and he finally acquiesced, rolling onto his back beside her.

 

She followed immediately, even the momentary loss of contact more than she could take. Rolling on top of him, Sam straightened up and straddled his upper thighs. His hands came to rest at her waist, his fingers moving in minute caresses against her soft skin. She gazed down at her lover and for the first time noticed the changes. Not that there were any new scars, but earlier she hadn't seen—or hadn't wanted to see—the unhealthy pallor that was visible on skin normally hidden by clothing. Hadn't been able to see the pronounced line of his rib cage or the mild wasting of normally strong, healthy muscles. And as she looked at him, it was like she could somehow see every wound that Ba'al had inflicted on him. Knives, acid and god knows what else...and she knew.

 

Sam choked back the sob that threatened, a strangled whimper escaping in its place. His hands tightened on her waist, concern filling his beautiful eyes. "Sam?" he rumbled, the concern she could hear in his voice merely heightening her renewed guilt.

 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Sam once more placed a trembling finger on his lips. "It's nothing," she reassured him. Compelled then by emotions so deep she couldn't even identify them, Sam sat back slightly on his thighs and let the fingers still resting on his lips travel delicately along his jaw and down his throat. Reaching out with both hands then, she ran her hands slowly across his shoulders, the twin caresses gliding along his collarbone, savoring the warmth of his skin, the firm bone resting beneath and the slightly rough feel of a few stray hairs. She let her hands come to rest at the hollows beneath each side of his collarbone, kneading the firm muscles there as if she were a cat. It was here, she decided, that Ba'al would have let his first knives impale her lover. Not close enough to any vital organs to do any instantaneous damage, but still quite capable of causing intense pain...confusion...and fear. 

 

Letting her eyes drift shut, she continued to smooth the flesh beneath her fingers, imagining the scars that would be present if it hadn't been for the sarcophagus. He moaned softly and her breath caught. Lost as she was in her images of his torture, his low sound of pleasure sounded too much like a cry of pain. Her eyes flew open and she looked at him and was immediately reassured. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed and filled with pleasure...at her touch. 

 

She shivered slightly and let her right hand drift slowly down his chest, resting her hand over his left breast. His chest rose and fell rhythmically beneath her hand, he was here and he was alive. She flexed her fingers, gently raking her nails through the smattering of hair there. This would be where Ba'al would have ended it. Maybe after letting a few more knives fly to the firm muscles of his thighs, maybe an arm. But nowhere that would render him incapable of continuing the interrogation until Ba'al was ready to end it. And then...would he choose slow or fast? Would he let the blood slowly drain from his victim or would he end it quickly, so the next round of torture could begin? In the long run, it probably didn't really matter, the end result was always the same. Death with no hope of peace and life with no hope at all.

 

Gracefully spreading herself over his body, Sam rested her head over his heart and closed her eyes. Relaxing against him, she simply listened to his heart, beating so steadily beneath her ear, the rhythmic pulsation endlessly comforting. What had happened with Ba'al ceased to matter and the reality of their lives faded into insignificance when confronted with the power of the love she felt for this man. She was dimly aware that Jack's arms were around her, soothing and caressing, holding her close. She sighed softly and nuzzled his chest, pressing soft kisses over his heart. This is where her life and hope rested, in his heart and in his arms.

 

Sam stretched languidly beneath his caressing hands, which brought her back to their immediate situation, once more vividly away of his aroused body beneath her. Rubbing herself against him in a deliberate caress this time, she savored the various other sensations present. The teasing rasp of his hairy thighs against her much smoother skin, the inviting feel of his erection pressed against her belly, the tingling in her tight nipples when she rubbed them against his chest. She smiled; the heart she could still hear beating steadily beneath her ear slowly increased in speed and his breath caught and then released on a long sigh of pleasure.

 

With her ragged and conflicted feelings somewhat soothed, Sam resumed her previous intent, that of making love to Jack. Moving with deliberate purpose now, Sam began placing soft kisses on her lover's chest, her fingers moving in equally delicate caresses along his lean ribs. She paused at his underarms, pleasantly distracted by the soft nests of hair there and her lover's low groan of enjoyment at the unexpected touch. But then her lips brushed against one of his nipples and she forgot about his armpits and concentrated on teasing the tiny nubbin. Which seemed to please her lover too, if the tightening of his hands in her hair and the low rumbles of pleasure were any indication. It pleased her as well and she couldn't stop the slow rotation of her pelvis against him or the low sound of pleasure that resulted from the exquisite feel of him against her damp flesh. 

 

And she wanted more than just feeling him. She wanted to stroke him, taste him, draw from him the ultimate response. With that in mind, she concentrated on kissing a lazy path down his chest. Scooting back slightly on his legs, she stroked his firm abdomen, delighting in the quiver that ran through him, his erection straining toward her. She had thought she could spend more time just exploring the delights of his body, but the lure of his engorged penis couldn’t be denied. Her lover groaned, his arms falling to his sides and his hips jerking against her with her first tentative touch. So smooth...so hot...so full of power and life. As if she were inspecting a treasure of great value, Sam deliberately caressed him, stroking lightly at first but then with increasing pressure. Jack groaned again and she quickly glanced at his face, the relaxed look of pleasure now replaced with one of tight expectation. Her lips curved into a lazy smile and she lowered her head.

 

Sam was dimly aware that he groaned her name at the first touch of her mouth on his penis and she smiled against his warm flesh. Continuing to massage his shaft, she kissed and licked the head, teasing him with the light touches. One of his large hands started stroking through her hair as she worked and out of the corner of her eye, she could see his other hand clenching in the sheets. Deciding it was time to increase his pleasure, Sam finally sucked him into her mouth. And it was wonderful beyond belief, to love him in this manner. To intimately pleasure him, taste him...and enjoy the terrifying power that built in her with him trembling and helpless at her touch. Unbidden, the thought of him helpless at Ba'al's hands once more filled her mind, but she quickly forced it down. What they shared couldn't even be compared to his experiences at Ba'al's hands, for she knew that it wouldn't be long before she would be just as helpless at his touch.

 

His hips had started moving in time with her caresses and she allowed him the freedom, moving with him. Having already decided to bring him to release with her mouth, Sam gave a startled yelp when strong hands grabbed her under her arms, hauling her up his body until she was once more sprawled across his chest. "What is it?" she gasped, cradling his face between her hands, searching for some reason for the sudden change.

 

Jack's dark eyes were almost wild with need and she knew immediately what he wanted. "Inside you," he growled, his hands moving to her waist, already lifting her up. "Now!"

 

"Yes," she moaned in agreement, bracing her hands on his shoulders; his hands at her waist steadying her as she hovered over him. Once she had her balance, Sam used one hand to firmly grasp his penis. Almost simultaneously, one of his hands slid between her legs, parting her folds and then he was there, the blunt head prodding insistently at her tender opening. She watched him while she slowly lowered herself onto his rigid length, watched the ecstasy fill his face as she felt her inner muscles stretch to accommodate him, confident that the same incredible sensations she felt were being shared by her lover. Jack groaned her name and she let out a shaky sigh when his hands tightened on her hips. She forced herself to relax, sinking down onto him and taking him fully into her silky depths.

 

It was almost too much, she didn't know how it was possible, but this time was even more intimate than the first. With any other lover the flash of pure male possessiveness that filled his eyes would have infuriated her, but not with this man...the man who made her complete. Letting her eyes drift shut, Sam started rocking her pelvis against him. She didn't protest when his hands subtly directed her movements, merely followed his lead, every cell within her focused on bringing her lover the ultimate release. It felt so good, the amazing feeling of fullness and the sweet friction whenever she rocked forward on his pelvis. She experimented, contracting her muscles in time with their rhythmic movements. Oh god...which was even better. She whimpered softly, bracing more of her weight on him, the muscles in her arms quivering now as she rode him. 

 

When one of his hands drifted back down to where they were joined, her eyes flew open and she groaned, "No, Jack...don't."

 

His hand paused and his eyes searched hers. "Why?" he rumbled.

 

"Because this is for you."

 

If anything, his eyes became even darker and the love that poured out of them almost brought her to tears. "No, this is for both of us."

 

She did sob then, giving into his desire when those clever fingers easily found her clitoris and began stroking her. It wasn't long until the combination of his determined caresses and her movements tumbled her into rapture. Grinding herself helplessly against him, Sam surrendered to his touch, letting the waves of ecstasy sweep through her. Crying out softly, she strained against him for long moments, her internal muscles contracting spasmodically around his engorged penis still embedded deeply inside her. Collapsing on his chest, she felt his arms tighten around her and realizing his intent, she clung to him when he rolled. Sam shifted with him, flexing her knees deeply at his coaxing and moaning softly when he was seated more fully within her. 

 

"Yes, love," she whispered encouragingly, when he draped her legs over his arms. His answering smile was fierce and primitive as he reared back and began driving into her. Sam gripped his wrists, bracing herself for his powerful thrusts, helpless to do anything except that which her lover wished. He rode her hard and she gloried in his possession, moving with him as best she could, doing whatever she could to enhance his pleasure. And she watched him, filled with wonder at the rapture that filled his face, her name a harsh cry on his lips when he exploded inside her. His hips jerked erratically against her as he filled her with his seed. When the last tremors finally coursed through him, he slowly sank into her arms. Sam held him close, cradling him in the safe haven of her embrace, luxuriating in the quiet moments of fulfilled passion before they had to make decisions.

 

Stroking her fingers through his hair, she knew that her decision wouldn't be that hard. She'd already asked for leave time, motivated by guilt and some vague idea that he would need help...and that the help he'd need would be hers. If she tried, she could still pull the guilt to the surface, but her main motivation now for wanting to help him was love. 

 

Feeling his muscles tense, she tightened her arms but he pulled easily out of her embrace, bracing himself on his elbows over her. "Good morning," he murmured, brushing the hair back off her forehead.

 

"Yes, a very good morning," she agreed, smiling tenderly up at him. 

 

"So, now what?" And though the question was asked in his usual casual manner, the tension she suddenly sensed in him wasn't casual at all. 

 

"I was thinking about taking some time off," she said carefully, watching his face, gauging his reaction. 

 

Relief flashed briefly through his eyes and then he was smiling lazily down at her. "Just so happens I'm taking some time off, too."

 

"Good," she murmured, looping her arms around his neck. "Because I won't go back to the way things were before." 

 

His smile faded and she wondered if she'd misjudged things, when he spoke. "God knows Sam, I don't want to either." His fingers toyed with her hair. "I'm tired of hiding, tired of denying my feelings, tired of being alone." 

 

He sighed then and she let her arms fall away when he gently disengaged their bodies, shifting to his side next to her. She turned onto her side facing him, resting her head on the pillow next to his and placing a hand on his chest, still needing the physical connection. For while he looked more relaxed, his deep brown eyes were still shadowed and weary. He seemed to need the physical connection too, for he rested a hand on her hip, his fingers softly caressing when he spoke. 

 

"Actually, I had a lot of time to think, in between the torture and the sarcophagus and the random visits from Daniel." 

 

She nodded, not sure where he was headed with this conversation but just thankful that he was talking. 

 

"Thought a lot about the past, things I'd done or hadn't done or wanted to do. Mistakes I'd made. Thought about the future too. What I would do once I got back home."

 

"What did you want to do?"

 

"See you."

 

"And now that you've seen me?"

 

"I want to keep seeing you."

 

"Hammond won't like it."

 

"Hammond can get his own woman." Sam laughed and buried her face against his throat. "Hey, I'm serious." He suddenly loomed over her and she stopped laughing, the intense look in his eyes silencing her. Smoothing his thumb over her lips, his hand drifted down to her throat. "Kanan didn't let the impenetrable fortress of some System Lord stop him from going back after Shallan. I'm thinking that Cheyenne Mountain should be a heck of a lot easier."

 

"Maybe," she murmured, her practical side warring with the joy spreading through her. "You've already shown the lengths you'll go to for me. Let me show you—this time." 

 

"No," he quickly answered. "Our relationship isn't going to be about who gave up what or did what for the other." He kissed her again, a quick, tender touch. "We're in this together, Sam—until the end."

 

The last of her remaining doubts and guilt fled with his words. He had been dead and yet he was here with her. If they had been given that kind of miracle, she had no doubt that they could conquer whatever lay ahead for them. For this time, the sacrifices would be made together. 

 

THE END


End file.
